


Shelter Your Needs

by the10amongstthese3s



Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Caffeine Addiction, Comfort, Family Feels, Fluff, Joan is a sleep deprived angel, Mamagon is best Aragon, One Shot, ladies in waiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 08:07:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22966669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the10amongstthese3s/pseuds/the10amongstthese3s
Summary: When Joan Meutas' caffeine addiction begins to get out of hand, Catherine of Aragon is there to bring her back down to earth.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 67





	Shelter Your Needs

Caffeine can be a good thing. A cup of coffee to start your workday. An energy drink to power you through a workout. A Starbucks whilst you study.

As with all good things though, moderation is key.

Unfortunately for Joan Meutas, she never quite got the memo on that. The girl was so focused on her work that the three coffees and six Redbulls a day didn’t phase her. How else would she unlock her potential without the sweet rush of adrenalin each new shot of caffeine brought? 

No, Joan couldn’t let her exhaustion get the better of her. She couldn’t afford to waste valuable time sleeping.

Nobody had quite realised the extent of her addiction yet, though. That is, until one morning when Catherine of Aragon decided to make her way to the theatre slightly early to make use of the practise space. They had a cast meeting at 1pm so Aragon rolled up at 10am to give herself enough time to practise for a little while and run across the street for lunch before anyone arrived.

That plan went out the window though as soon as she heard anxious muttering coming from the stage. 

Oh no. 

She knew that voice.

The first thing she noticed was the empty Redbull cans and papers scattered across the stage. The hundreds of screwed up pages made it look as if some snowball war had broken out overnight, the remnants remaining unmelted in the ruins of their battlefield.

Next, she spotted the lime green piano. Only the piano wasn’t green, it was camouflaged by a storm of post-it notes, covering every inch of its surface, other than the keys.

Finally, Aragon’s eyes fell to the pacing blonde, still dressed in the same clothes as the night before.

Had she even gone home?

The bags under her eyes would indicate otherwise, as would the frizzy, blonde birds nest that laid atop her head. The way she twitched and vibrated told Aragon that she hadn’t slept either, fuelled only by the caffeine rush that however-many cans of Redbull had supplied. 

To put it bluntly; Joan looked like shit.

Aragon hadn’t been the most motherly person since her resurrection but she did have a soft spot for Joan and, seeing Joan like this, something snapped inside of her. This little girl needed her help and there was no way she could deny that. So, against her better judgement, Aragon approached the shaking girl.

“Joan?”

Nothing. 

The girl barely even registered that anyone had spoken, still pacing anxiously as she murmured incoherently.

“Joey, look at me, pumpkin,” Aragon hummed, gently placing her hands on the girl’s arms, making her finally stand still. The girl was swaying slightly as her bloodshot eyes trailed up to Aragon’s face, barely focusing as they achieved eye contact. “There we go. Good girl. It’s me, mija. It’s Catherine.”

It took Joan a moment to process the words, but when she finally did, the girl blinked, suddenly becoming far more aware.

“Catherine?”

“That’s right, my love. I think it’s time we got you home, mija. How does that sound?”

The reaction she got was not at all what Aragon was expecting. Instantly, Joan pushed her away, her movements rigid and uncertain. The girl was murmuring again. About work, about deadlines, about the show.

About a million inconsequential things that seemed to be death sentences in her eyes.

“Shhh. Okay, mija. That’s okay. We don’t have to leave the theatre. Let’s get you cleaned up though, okay? Just a little shower and then you can get back to your work.” Aragon’s anxiety was running almost as high as Joan’s as she suggested this, not knowing what to do if that plan failed. 

Thankfully though, Joan hesitated for a moment before giving a nod, allowing Aragon to take her hand and lead her to the shower room.

Joan didn’t seem to care when Aragon undressed her. She didn’t even react when the woman sat behind her, gently massaging shampoo into her greasy scalp. No, Joan simply sat on the ground in a trance, allowing Aragon to relieve her skin of the film of grime that coated it. The woman even brushed her teeth for her, making sure the barely-conscious girl didn’t accidentally choke on the foaming toothpaste.

After what felt like hours of cleaning the girl up, Aragon carefully dried her off before dressing her. Not wanting to put Joan back in her dirty, sweaty shirt, Aragon quickly took off her jumper and wrapped the girl up in it, smiling as she nuzzled against the soft material.

Her sweet girl was finally calm.

“Think you can walk to my car, pumpkin?” Aragon checked, holding her breath for fear of the girl descending into panic again. This time though, Joan just gave a small nod and clung to Aragon as the woman guided her out of the theatre.

The others would start showing up soon but all that Aragon cared about at that moment was getting Joan to a bed. She would call in sick for the both of them when she had a moment. 

It was four hours later when Joan awoke on an unfamiliar couch to a delicious scent. Something sweet filled the air, assaulting her nostrils. 

Cinnamon?

Before Joan could even stop to think, Aragon entered the room holding a plate and a glass of water.

“Ah, good. You’re finally awake! I was beginning to think you’d slipped into a coma,” Aragon teased, placing the plate on the coffee table in front of the girl before helping her to sit up. The sleepy girl just stared at the plate for a moment, not quite sure what was happening until Aragon spoke again. “Come on, mija. Eat up. I know how much you like French toast.”

It was true. Joan did like French toast. How did Aragon know that though? More to the point, why did she know that? A queen had no reason to remember something so insignificant and dumb, yet here she was, grinning as she watched Joan tuck into the dish.

As soon as she took a bite, Joan felt her anxieties slip away. Whatever reason it was made for, that was the best French toast she had ever tasted.

Ever!

Aragon just watched on with a smirk as the girl stuffed her face before slumping back on the couch, still exhausted. It was nice to see the girl eat something other than a random cereal bar she found in a changing room, or a biscuit that was offered to her alongside another cup of coffee. Joan’s eating habits were almost as bad as her sleeping habits.

“So… where am I? Why am I?” Joan asked with a yawn, looking around the room.

“My living room because you can’t be trusted to eat and sleep if I leave you alone. Sorry. I would have gotten you to the spare room but I didn’t want to risk you hurting yourself on the stairs. You really need to take better care of yourself, mija. You’re going to burn yourself out one day,” Aragon explained with a frown, taking a seat beside the girl.

Feeling a strange pang of guilt in her chest, Joan hung her head and gave an awkward shrug. “I know. I just… my work.”

“Your health is more important than any work.”

“It… It is?”

That simple question broke Aragon’s heart. Did this wonderful, talented girl really believe that her work was all her worth? That she didn’t deserve a life outside of the theatre?

“Of course it is, baby girl. Your health, your happiness; those are all that matter to me right now, okay?” Aragon reassured the fragile girl, resulting in a breakthrough.

Immediately, Joan’s walls broke down and a flood of unexpressed tears finally made their way down her cheeks. All she could do was cling to the Spanish queen and sob her thanks, comforted slightly by the woman’s hushed reassurances. 

Everything was fine. Joan wasn’t a burden. She deserved love, and joy, and peace.

She deserved a life filled with cuddles like this, and French toast, and the calm sensation that came with Aragon’s fingers stroking through her hair.

Joan Meutas deserved the world and, if Catherine of Aragon had her way, she was going to get it.

Joan never went home that night. In fact, it soon became a common occurrence that Joan would stay with Aragon, especially after a bad day. Aragon wasn’t going to let her suffer alone anymore.

No, Joan certainly wasn’t alone anymore.

She may not have the world just yet but, for now, being wrapped up in Aragon’s warm embrace on the couch was close enough for Joan.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, my loves! 💚 I know a lot of people aren't a big fan of me writing Ladies in Waiting content but my pumpkin, Lizzie, had an awful day so I stayed up until 4am writing this for her. I hope this is okay 🦆
> 
> (I was way too exhausted from work to edit this properly so I apologise for any errors/rambling)


End file.
